


Morning Temper

by WInger



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College Aged Characters, Confessions, Humor, M/M, Mornings, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7137806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WInger/pseuds/WInger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen minutes till the caffeine kick; fifteen minutes for Yaku to confess and cry.</p><p>Yaku comes knocking too early in the morning and it awakens Kuroo’s sadistic tendencies.</p><p>---</p><p>There was a small smile on Yaku’s face – some might even call it fond. His other hand came up to grip Kuroo’s chin and he opened his mouth,</p><p>“You’re hard.” </p><p>The cute expression morphed into a smarmy smirk as Kuroo’s face turned red fire hot.</p><p>---<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Temper

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Chapter 200

“You know, Yaku-san,” Kuroo started, feeling unpleasant. “Recent scientific inquires show that getting up anytime before 10 am is nothing more than pointless sleep deprivation because people are actually unable to get anything done until after.”

Yaku held out his hand for the coffee. Kuroo had half a mind to withhold it, but gave upon considering that picking a fight with Yaku right now was only going to be disadvantageous for himself. “The time now is 9.45 am,” he finished unhappily.

“Really? Never heard of that,” Yaku sipped and flipped the book idly. _Kuroo’s_ book. He sounded like he was in a good mood, and given how he was infringing upon Kuroo’s hospitality, eating Kuroo’s food, using his utilities, wearing his clothes, drinking his coffee and taking up his bed, he damn well better be happy.

“And your dog bit me when I tried to play with it.”

“Her instincts told her not to trust pissed drunk assholes that show up in people’s houses at three in the morning.” Kuroo was feeling trapped and he was tempermental. The confrontation Yaku was trying to initiate right now was completely unfair, and the only part of Kuroo ready for anything at this point was neither his brain nor mouth but hanging in between his legs, and they could fuck anything but they were _not_ going to go there.

 _Not_ that they were going to fuck, or anything. It was just a figure of speech. 

Yaku hummed a note, and the hand he had flipping the book suddenly froze. Kuroo’s sleepy instincts screamed at him to back the fuck up, but Yaku unfroze just as fast and went back to his business of pretend-reading.

“You never complained about that before when we had morning practices.”

Kuroo had to take a swig from his own coffee before he could come up with a response. The coffee was black, sugarless, and scalding hot – as bitter as the heart of the person who brewed it, but to his displeasure (and minute acknowledgment) Yaku drank it like it was none of those things.

“Also your coffee tastes like shit.”

An image of himself splashing bitter black liquid into Yaku’s fucking face suddenly materialized in his head, but he restrained himself because he actually _was_ that nice of a person. “Are you going to get out of my room?” he deadpanned instead.

“Hmm. Are you going to answer my question?”

“…”

“Then nope.”

Kuroo ran his tongue across his his lower jaw twice. Taking a big steadying breath, he explained, “I only give my mornings to volleyball. Not to anything or _anyone_ else.” 

“That’s not the question I meant and you know it.”

Kuroo took another breath. “I refuse.”

“You _refuse_?”

“I refuse to answer your question.”

Glaring at him, Yaku pushed himself up from the bed and slammed his cup on the windowsill. “Last chance to retract your statement,” he said, cracking his neck and fingers. It would have been menacing if Kuroo hadn't seen it a million times both in third person and on the receiving end. 

“Don’t put it there, it’ll spill on my bed!” He scolded, thinking about the chore of changing the sheets.

“Only if _you_ hit it, fucker,” Yaku said, and jumped on him.

“My cup!” Kuroo roared, swinging his left hand away record fast and spilling some liquid on the floor. Fuck, those stains were going to be hard to remove. Hard on his lower back and hard on his shitty cleaning rag. Yaku clung onto him by the neck and drove his heels into his kidneys, which hurt so bad, Kuroo only managed to remain standing because he braced against the doorframe.

“Yaku, dammit get off!!”

“You’re such a motherfucking pussy over these things!” Yaku snarled hot air and coffee breath down Kuroo’s neck. “It’s been three fucking years!”

Kuroo thought _screw it,_ downed the rest of his drink in a glup and chucked the empty cup onto his sofa. He’s fucking ready now – somewhat, like 65%, whatever, he could fight. With both hands freed, he grabbed Yaku’s hips and slammed him against the other wall. Yaku’s features twisted in anger, and he retaliated by smashing his forehead into Kuroo’s on the third slam. Shouting, the both of them fell backwards the other way - with Kuroo cushioning and Yaku perched on top as they hit the ground, with Yaku squeezing the air out of Kuroo’s windpipe the entire time down. _Fuck this guy, seriously_ \- Kuroo flipped their bodies over and dropped his weight, crushing the smaller body against the floor.

Now that he’s done that, Yaku’s pretty little scowl was a mere two inches away from his own face, and far too late he realized he’s given Yaku a very good window to bite. That dirty fucker always bites. He reared his head back - as far back as Yaku's hands on his neck would allow him - but then he noticed too that he’d also somehow managed to land his knee right between Yaku’s legs – fucking how? – his knee brushing right up his crotch. He’s torn between continuing to wrestle or jumping right the fuck off, less Yaku could continue with his _wrong wrong wrong wrong_ wrong _idea_ of things.

Yaku spared him the internal wrangling; he pulled him down and kissed him.

All Kuroo could taste was the coffee.

Undeterred, or rather taking advantage of Kuroo’s stun, Yaku slid his tongue straight into Kuroo’s mouth. Kuroo's throat let out a surprised gargle. Taking his time, Yaku coaxed and sucked Kuroo's tongue into his own mouth, by which point Kuroo zoned out completely, lost in the tastes of Jamaican roast, Arabica origin, potential boyfriend, and Yaku-san – only coming to his senses when he felt a hand squeeze his ass. Squeezed it really fucking hard, with fingers digging in and everything. 

Way to ruin a heady moment. Pulling away from a kiss that languid made him woozy, and though he tried, he knew the impact of his glare wouldn't hold up with his mouth stupidly parted and saliva sliding down his chin. Conversely there was a small smile on Yaku’s face – some might even call it fond. His other hand came up to grip Kuroo’s chin and he opened his mouth,

“You’re hard.”

The cute expression morphed into a smarmy smirk as Kuroo’s face turned red fire hot. Anticipating his reaction, Yaku’s locked his feet around Kuroo’s ankle and kept him rooted to the spot, unable to bolt.

“Morning wood, it’s got nothing to do with you,” he muttered without heat. He couldn’t even look away; Yaku had a strong lock around his neck. He was forced to stare into huge, yellow-orange cat eye as their owner assuredly informed him, “You _want_ me.”

“And you inferred this how?” Kuroo raised his brows and tried to summon a face of indignant disbelief.

That was a bad thing to say _,_ because in response Yaku’s hand jumped suddenly from Kuroo's ass to his dick. He jerked back but quickly froze. Of _course_ Yaku would respond like that, the only question was why didn’t he just directly stick his hand down Kuroo’s pants and grabbed the flesh straight. 

“You and your wet dreams are loud,” Yaku said, still wearing that little quirk on the edges of his lips. To make sure Kuroo had no confusion that behind the sexy language was an even bigger threat, he tugged twice on Kuroo’s dick, which meant  _any wrong move and I’ll tear it off with my bare hands._ Fucking hell _._ According to Nekoma High School legends, it wouldn’t be the first time Yaku-san did something like that either.

Now Kuroo doesn't get scared of much things. Spiders no. Cockroaches sometimes, like the flying ones. Horror movies no. Yaku tugging on his dick - yes. He doesn’t unnerve easily, but when he does, every stupid fleeting thought flies out of his mouth unchecked, such as “Too hot for you?”

“Just,” Yaku said, actually blushing. “Fuck me.”

And this time his hand goes to the flesh. They kiss again, and he could feel Yaku smile over Kuroo's conspicuous lack of underwear - really, there was quite a list of bad morning habits Kuroo should change. Yaku started stroking him under his pants, keeping pace with the way he sucked Kuroo's mouth, and the sensation of his small, calloused palm rubbing him up and down cooled his head a little. And fired up his blood a lot. Without flattering Yaku, he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he grunted so into the kiss. Yaku moaned back encouragingly and squeezed his legs around Kuroo’s sides.

The thought of not wanting to give into Yaku just yet, as well as not wanting to soil his only pair of comfortable pyjama pants activated a self-control Kuroo was unaware he possessed; he grabbed Yaku’s wrist and pulled his hand out. Yaku’s eyes slid open into a warning death-glare, signalling the shift in mood from _fuck_ to Fuck! But thanks to all the caffeine and near death experiences, Kuroo’s brain had - about time - woke the fuck up. Time for the captain to call the shots.

He scooped Yaku from the floor and rolled into a sitting position against his bed. Being propped on Kuroo’s hip meant sitting right on top of his erection, but he's sure Yaku wouldn't mind. Before Yaku could distrac him again, Kuroo put a finger to his lips. “Tell me what you _really_ came here for,” he ordered, using his lowest voice possible - not that that required effort, since it was the morning and his libido had been triggered. With a shiver, Yaku replied -

“Stop trying to act cool! I told you why I came, you’re the one who's refusing to answer!”

… Not for the first time, Kuroo found himself lamenting over the fact that cute, petite Yaku only spoke in annoyed, thug-like sentences to him and only him, Kuroo Tetsuro. Was this that crap about schoolboys being mean to their crushes?  

“If you want me to return feelings for you then you’ve got to try harder than that.”

“I was jerking you off and you were right about to come. What, chickened out? Are you a virgin?”

“I meant can’t you go with the mood and try to be more… _Kawaii_?”

First Yaku scrunched his eyebrows in _what the fuck?_ Then sniffed and turned up his nose. _But of course unintentional cuteness was the purest and highest form,_ Kuroo immediately thought, turning appreciative, only to have Yaku ruin it by continuing to run his mouth. “Well not for hypocrites. You’re not telling me anything and I’m selling myself short.”

"So you're saying in other words you came with the intention of bending me to your will through sex.”

Yaku dropped his gaze and abruptly twisted Kuroo’s right nipple ( _??!)_ , from which he inferred that Yaku must be embarrassed. “How many times do you want me to say it?” He asked, suddenly small and meek. “I’m tired of not having you.”

Kuroo waited. His heart was picking up a rapid pace of _doki doki,_ but if only Yaku could complete the moment, say, by lifting his head slightly so that Kuroo could see the full extent of his shy gaze-

“Forget it. I’ll go.” Yaku got up abruptly. “Sorry for bothering.”

He doesn’t get a single step before Kuroo's grabbed him back and onto the bed. Yaku landed silently, head rolling to a side, not moving even as Kuroo crawled over him in a plank and turned his face over. Anyone else would have attempted something to shield their wet eyes, but Yaku simply looked straight at him.

“I’m in love with you,” He spoke without stuttering, voice not wobbling even as his eyes continued to well up. “It’s been three _years_.“ And Kuroo watched disbelievingly - Yaku blinked, closing his eyes, Kuroo's mouth parts - inappropriately fascinated for the mood but unable to help himself - as a single tear rolled down the side of Yaku’s face, into his hair and onto Kuroo’s pillow. _Incredible._

He moved and gingerly rubbed the tear track away with his thumb. Instead of flinching, Yaku eyed him from beneath wet eyelashes. Even with only half his gaze visible Kuroo could see that Yaku was psyching himself – pulling back the emotions and steeling himself for Kuroo’s response, which he presumed to be a rejection. He blinked rapidly and refocused on Kuroo with a hardened look.

 _Nonexistent refractory period,_ Kuroo marveled, and kissed him. He cupped Yaku’s face with both hands and pushed his tongue into Yaku’s mouth, returning some of Yaku's tricks from earlier, all the while stroking the soft skin on his face and rubbing away more tears. Then very lazily, extremely slowly, he grinded their lower bodies together, groin to groin. Life started to return to the stiff body under him.

Kuroo pulled back from the kiss to admire Yaku’s stupefied face. “Me too,” he confessed, grinning through his tightly clenched heart. “I’m in love – been in love with you, too. Three years.” Goddamn. He couldn't do talking - he was going to stutter. He started to lean back, only to have Yaku lightly slap his mouth away with a breathy " _What?_ " 

“What what?”

“What the fuck was all that for, then?” Yaku demanded. His voice was high-pitched and confused – that was a rare, good sound to him, it was almost schoolgirl-ish - but Kuroo knew the instant he answered all that vulnerability was going to vanish. Yaku was going to pitch him straight out the window because he had the physical strength and a flexible enough moral code to do so. "What?" he repeated, starting to sound angry.

“... Just wanted to see you cry.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is what they call a _ドS_


End file.
